


Devil's Hunting Ground LUCIFERXSAM

by GreenRogue



Series: In All Their Smutty Goodness [5]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angelic Grace Sex (Supernatural), Cage memories, Depressed Sam Winchester, Hurt Sam Winchester, M/M, Rape/Non-con Elements, Sam Winchester Has PTSD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-23
Updated: 2019-11-23
Packaged: 2021-02-26 02:41:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,332
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21536128
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GreenRogue/pseuds/GreenRogue
Summary: Be sober, be vigilant; because your adversary the devil, as a roaring lion, walketh about, seeking whom he may devourLucifer is in the bunker, Chuck is in the bunker. Sam is fighting to keep it together until they can beat the darkness. But one thing every hunter should remember-- when a predator finds you, it never let's go.
Relationships: Lucifer/Sam Winchester
Series: In All Their Smutty Goodness [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1476878
Comments: 8
Kudos: 72





	Devil's Hunting Ground LUCIFERXSAM

**Author's Note:**

> This is a work of Fiction, I do not own Supernatural or the characters, I just like to play with them.
> 
> First non-con imaging, please let me know how it went? Also part of this is not proofread so if you find errors just point 'em out!

* * *

LUCIFERXSAM

* * *

God he was so fucking cold.

Not for the first time, Sam whispered fervent thanks to the Men of Letters for whatever mechanical or mystical miracle that was the hot water capacity of their showers. He wasn’t sure how long he’d stayed under the hot spray, the steam making the whole locker room hazy like a dream. His skin was red from the heat but his body still wracked with shivers as he clenched his eyes against the pounding spray. Distantly he could still hear the rock music playing loudly from his room, Dean and he had long given up trying to get Lucifer to abandon his pouty bitchiness. Dean had looked at Sam when they stood outside his closed door, shoulders raised in a shrug as he walked away.

“What can ya do Sammy?”

What could he do? A fucking archangel was in his room, fucking _Lucifer_ was in his space. A space he hadn’t even had long enough to really feel at home in yet but goddammit it felt like an invasion of his soul.

‘ _Not like I haven’t felt that before.’_

Numbly he rubs at the clean skin on his chest, remembering the way Castiel’s arm had disappeared inside his body, the way it had ripped inside someplace sacred and twisted with such excruciating pain.

Another shiver made his head pound and teeth rattle and he tried to huddle further under the hot spray. His hair was plastered around his neck, water droplets racing down his bare arms until they dripped onto the wet tiles below. He let the spray concentrate on the back of his neck, its pulsing rhythm making the tense muscles tingle with pins and needles while he forced himself to relax. He can feel something trying to give way in his mind, a subtle pressure that had been building ever since Lucifer first pushed him into the column in the library. Almost like a nagging reminder that he forgot something, but he was too afraid to go hunting for it.

Sam sighed and breathed in the hot moist air deeply before stretching his hands forward to lean against the far wall, the spray of the shower aiming lower onto his lower back. He let his head hang and just listened to the spray of the shower and the muted rock—

He picked his head up, shots of fear and anxiety forcing the constant shivering to stop as he held his breath. The music had stopped.

Sam fumbled behind him to turn the shower off, the water cut quickly with a few drips echoing in the stillness. Sam stood still again, his head cocked slightly trying to strain his hearing as much as possible. There was nothing, not a peep. Not a guitar cord or bass rattle to be heard. That should be relieving, should be a good sign. But Sam knows all too well, a silent devil is a skilled predator.

_Be sober, be vigilant; because your adversary the devil, as a roaring lion, walketh about, seeking whom he may devour_

Sam was fumbling with his towel before long, cursing his stupid Winchester luck that he left his clothes on the other side of the washroom. The room was still hazy from his everlasting shower, it played tricks with his eyes as he carefully and quietly moved towards his clothes, and angel blade.

Keeping his breaths shallow, Sam maneuvered his body quickly and quietly, ears straining as they could to sense any displacement in the space around him, any hint that he wasn’t alone. When he was about to reach out for his clothes, fingers caressing over the denim of his jeans, did he feel the first whisper tingle of cold grace along the back of his neck.

“Sammy—“

_Hell is empty, and all the devils are here._

He couldn’t stop it, the minute shudder, the barely audible whimper; this was the first moment he was alone since having Lucifer and Chuck under their roof. The first moment of weakness that escaped past Sam’s barriers. ‘ _Dammit’._

He could hear a chuckle from the doorway. A steady click of polished shoes on the tiles and the pulse of freezing grace grew stronger. He could feel it sensing over his skin, lightly brushing against his scars and prodding at his muscles. He clenched his jaw, delaying the inevitable until he was forced to turn around and feel his heartbreak just that little bit more.

He never associated Castiel with the other angels.

_The Boy with the Demon blood_

_Abomination_

He never saw the hatred in his eyes like he did the others. Merely, curiosity. Like a dog given a new and interesting toy. Sam had watched with aching fondness at the way Dean tried to bicker with him, tried to bait the angel into an easy banter. He would laugh quietly to himself when it wouldn’t work, or when he could see the angel messing with Dean right back again. Sam would like to think their friendship had grown over the years and he ached to see his friend again.

_‘Nothing is worth losing you.’_

Now all Sam could see were cold, calculating eyes behind a lazy smirk. Eyes that travelled the length of his body as Sam stood stock still, refusing to flinch from the cool gaze. This wasn’t Cas, this wasn’t his friend.

“Sammy—you and I haven’t really had chance to bond yet, it’s been so long since we’ve seen each other. Sure I know, you did give me a--- conjugal—visit with your little buddies. But I don’t think we really had the change to reacquaint ourselves.” Lucifer is biting his lower lip now, eyeing the towel Sam had hastily wrapped around himself. He can feel rather than see the steady raising of his hand. Its light, ghosting touch over Sam’s thigh, across his abdomen and up over his ribs until his hand settles over his throat, the thumb rubbing over his skin slowly.

“Oh how I’ve missed you bunk-buddy. The way your screams would just brighten my little corner of Hell. It wasn’t the same when you left. You hurt my feelings you know.” The unnatural red glow flashes in Cas’s blue eyes and Sam’s heart beats a little harder as he breath grows short. Lucifer has crowded Sam’s space now, the rough fabric of the trench coat rubbing against his bare skin. Sam clenched his eyes shut, willing his mind to wake up.

‘ _A dream—this has to be a dream—‘._ Cool fingers teased his damp flesh just above the barrier of his towel, frigid grace curled around his legs as it inched up under the towel. Sam’s breath hitched in his throat and he clenched his fists at his sides. Softly in the back of his mind, Sam can hear the whispers of hellfire, of souls screaming in the distance under the cruelty of demons.

“Stop it—“ Cas’s chuckle curled unpleasantly in his stomach and Sam opened his eyes to silently beg his angle friend. “Please—Cas—please—“

“Sammy, Sammy, Sammy—Castiel is a bit occupied at the moment. It’s just little ‘ol you—“ The soft feel of fabric falling from his hips brought back the tremors, the memories. “—and little ‘ol me. What shall we do with our time bunkmate?” Lucifer leaned towards Sam’s ear, the grip on his throat tightening slightly causing an involuntary whimper to escape past his panting lips. The grace had reached his crotch, its sharp burning cold lightly caressing over his skin and that odd pressure in his mind had returned tenfold, narrowing his focus to the stimulation Lucifer was causing.

To his horror, Sam felt a small coil of heat starting to grow in his belly and that finally snapped his body back to his command. Taking a staggering step back he wrenched himself from Lucifer’s grasp and stepped over the low bench, putting a psychical barrier between them.

“Enough Lucifer, jus—that’s enough.” He titled his head, a macabre impersonation of Cas’s curious head tilt and Sam felt a stab of sorrow as the gesture.

“Sammy, do you really think you are in any position to give me commands?” Sam fought to keep from covering himself as Lucifer eyed him up and down. His skin vibrated with adrenaline, fighting the urge to panic and run. He would not be a plaything, he would not play mouse to Lucifer’s cat. Sam grasped at his fading bravery, held onto the dwindling strings and pulled his shoulders tight, bracing for the backlash.

“Yeah Lucifer, I really do. This isn’t the cage. This isn’t your playground. You have no real power here.” Lucifer’s smile is slow, cold, and calculating as Sam holds his ground. He clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth and turns away for a moment to glance back at the darkened doorway. His head tilts, as though listening for something and Sam stands still, breath stuttering in his throat. The cold grace around his body has tightened its coils, pulsing angelic anger against his flushed skin. Sam glances once again at the angel blade, knowing it won’t do much, but maybe just enough—

The solitary snap echoes for a moment in the slowly cooling air before Sam feels the grace around him tighten painfully and he’s pulled over the bench, clothes and blade scattering to the floor. His hands are twisted behind him painfully as his legs are bent and spread at an awkward angle. Sam feels the cold grace like a needle and thread over his lips and his eyes sting at the piercing pain.

‘ _No no no no no----DEAN!’_

Warm hands caress his bare back, trailing fingers leaving a fiery sting in their wake as they traveled down his spine, circling the decade old scar just above his tailbone. Sam tries to jerk free, to pull his legs closed or to shout for Dean or Chuck but he’s held fast against the rough wooden bench. He can feel a pressure behind his eyes starting grow again, a building storm threatening to burst through a dam he built long ago. Hot breath whispers against his ear as the hands rest heavily on his hips, the rough fabric of dress pants and a familiar trench coat tickle the back of his legs.

“Sammy—I want to talk about something you said back in our bunk—a little—parting jab you thought you’d get away with.” Sam can feel himself start to hyperventilate, his eyes raise and focus off in the distance staring into the dim hallway trying to will his brother to walk around the corner. “You said you were prepared to watch your family die, you said you were ready to die—but you wouldn’t be my bitch—“sharp teeth nip at his earlobe and Sam grunts against the pain. “—well Sammy baby, I’m sorry to say, this ass already belongs to me” Lucifer thrusts harshly against Sam and he can feel the hardness against his skin through the rough fabric. He clenches his eyes shut, trying to ignore the few escaped tears.

‘ _Please—Cas—‘_

The grace around his dick started to hum and the vibration sends shivers through his body. The foreign heat he had felt before starts to grow in his belly again and Sam tries to scream, to rip his mouth open grace stitches be damned.

Lucifer moans in his ear before nuzzling the skin behind his ear with his nose. Vaguely Sam hears the showers around them turn back on, the pounding water on tile drowning out his feeble noises. The hands on his hips clench tighter, sharp nails digging impressions against his skin as Lucifer rocks his hips against Sam again.

“That’s it bunk buddy, you know how much I used to love those noises you make. I may not be able to kill you, but we can find other ways to pass the time.” The vibration on his dick has picked up and Sam can feel how hard he’s become, the hot pulsing of his blood makes his head dizzy and the pressure in his mind has become unbearable. He can feel more grace winding its way up his legs as it tickles his inner thighs before nudging at his hole. Sam tries to clench, tries to block the angelic magic as he grunts without thinking. Lucifer is placing hot wet kisses on the back of his neck, Cas’s tie is rubbing against his shoulder blades. Lucifer bites down just above his collar bone and Sam can’t stop the muffled scream. The burning pain of blunt teeth as it tears into his skin. Lucifer is breathing hard into Sam’s ear again, his own quiet grunts echoing in Sam’s fuzzy brain.

“We’re gonna have such a good time bunk buddy—remember—remember all the **fun** we used to have. You and me, in the dark of the cage after days and days of torture. You—*suck*-- on your knees—*bite*-- taking me in like a good.little.bitch.” Lucifer punctuates each word with a harsh thrust of grace inside of Sam, the cold tendril pushing against Sam’s prostate forcing more arousal from the hunter’s body. With each icy stab, Sam feels the pressure slowly bursting, images from the cage flash in his vision and he really is screaming now. His voice muffled by Lucifer’s grace and his hand that has circled around to clamp tightly over his face. He can remember the feel of the cage beneath his knees, the feel of Lucifer’s dick in his mouth. The way the archangel would run his grace over Sam’s body, wringing orgasm after orgasm until he was whimpering in a hazy pain/pleasure state. Mostly though, Sam remembered his begging. The way he begged Lucifer to take him, to do anything to his body, anything at all just to stop the torture.

‘ ** _I told you, I own you Sam.’_**

Lucifer’s voice, the harsh guttural sound of enochian words in his mind has him crying openly now, somehow he’s missed the initial intrusion of fingers but now he can feel it. Feel the way Cas’s fingers feel as they dig inside him, stretching and scratching against his skin. He can feel the tight grip on his hip as nails dig into his skin. Lucifer’s hot mouth has clamped against the space between his shoulder and neck, tongue laving at the tender skin as blood slowly oozes out of the bite.

Frigid grace still pulses around his throbbing member and inside his body, pushing and vibrating against his prostate. Spit slick fingers scissor and rotate, opening him, preparing him, reminding him. He’s in the cage, he can feel the ghostly wind from the never-ending storm ruffle his hair as flashes of lightening blinds his sight. He can hear Lucifer’s taunting in his mind and Michael’s whimpers farther in the cage.

**‘ _You feel so nice Sammy, so warm for me. Your body was made for me, in every sense of the word. I’m going to fuck you Sammy, gonna stick my dick so far inside you, you can taste it. You’re mine Sammy, mine to use. Mine to abuse, mine to own. No one is coming for you Sammy. You belong to me, for forever.’_**

“So good Sammy, you ready baby, ready to feel me again. I’m gonna split you open sweetheart, gonna remind you who you belong to.” Cas’s gravelly voice in his ear brings Sam back to the present, to the steamy shower room and the hard wooden bench under his chest. He’s not in the cage, he’s not in the cage— “You never left Sam, you know that, you know you’re still with me, in the cage, still my little bitch in every sense of the word.” Hot, hard pain ricochets up his spine as a firmer blunt feeling pushes against his ass. He feels Lucifer’s thighs clench and push against his own as he slowly pumps himself into Sam’s body. Inching too slowly to be ignored, hot breath against his back. Sam tries to shut it out, tries to ignore the tingling grace and burning pain as it rips him apart.

Finally Lucifer bottoms out and stills, flush against Sam. It’s hard for him to breathe, air doesn’t seem to exist in this space as he struggles to keep from passing out. His eyes bore holes into the white tile floor underneath him, willing it to open up and swallow him whole, to let him escape from this new reality. He feels Lucifer start to move behind him. A quickening thrusting motion and for a moment he can’t stop the moan that bubbles up.

He hears Lucifer chuckle darkly and the grace around his dick and in his ass start moving more insistently, reawakening the horrifying warmth in his belly, dick hardening at the stimulation.

“That’s it Sam, be a good boy for me. Such a good boy. Let me feel you, cum for me baby, cum on my dick like the good little bitch you are.” Lucifer pushes harder, spikes of pleasure runs up Sam’s spine as he grunts at the force, the coil tightening and a few stray tears drip onto the floor below him. A hand has joined the grace on his dick and it’s just a matter of moments before the tension breaks in his body and he arches up against the force of his orgasm. Teeth are back in his neck, biting hard as Lucifer crashes over with him, grunting into Sam’s skin as his hips stutter and still.

The silence around them is deafening, the pounding water from the showers a numbing feeling washes over Sam as the feeling of grace and hands slowly retract from his body. He slumps fully onto the floor, head bowed so his brown shaggy hair covers his face, shielding him from the world around him. Calloused fingers tip his chin up slowly and hazel eyes focus against deep baby blues.

“Remember Sam, no matter what happens, you belong to me. You **are** my bitch, always have been, always will be.” He’s gone the next moment in a flutter of wings and Sam is alone. He sits on the cold floor, blinking slowly as his brain reboots and brings him back to the present. He barely see’s the shower room around him, doesn’t feel the way his body moves to wash the evidence of the past from his body. He washes away the physical shame and tries to ignore the lingering twinges of pain on his hips and ass.

He barely remembers dressing, leaving, doesn’t remember the look Chuck gives him as he slowly climbs the stairs to the garage. He should find Dean, tell Dean, hold onto Dean like it’s the end of the world. But Sam can’t bring himself to face his brother, can’t tell him about the taint his brother holds under his skin. Instead he’s in the cold garage, the soft night light barely illuminating the cavernous room. He stares at the Impala for just a brief moment before turning away. He can’t bring this there, can’t bear to allow his essence to sully his childhood home. Instead he grabs a rough emergency blanket from the trunk and crawls into the bed of an old truck. He doesn’t remember laying down, doesn’t remember closing his eyes. All he knows is the phantom wind and storm of cage as it echoes in his mind.

They needed Lucifer to take down Amara, they needed the devil to beat the Darkness. They needed his help, more than Sam needed his sanity. He’d deal with this, like he’d done before. Shove it deep like the Winchester way and in the morning—well in the morning he’d bury it under guilt and anguish until he could function without breaking, could plan and scheme with God and Dean—and Lucifer.

After this was over—after they won—then he’d break, then he’d let himself feel the shame, let it wash over him and drown him.


End file.
